Time Falls Away
by JamesTheGreater
Summary: An iOMG aftermath one-shot in which Freddie inadvertently makes things a lot more complicated than they need to be.


**This is a continuation of iOMG based on a prompt by the always inspirational aussiemma.**

* * *

><p>It ended just as it had begun.<p>

Suddenly, without warning, without thought.

The air around them was dead still, mirroring the moment that was currently passing between the two. Freddie felt it. The _moment_. Brought on by Sam's impossibly real actions, it hung there in a state of suspended animation, too fragile to break yet too unbelievable to exist.

Sam slowly took a single step back, her expression carefully guarded and her eyes brimming with nothing Freddie could understand. Not that he could even try. He was still numb from disbelief. The only thing he could remember feeling was the weight of her lips pressing into his. In that split second that she had taken to cross the vast, unreachable chasm, he had had a feint, fleeting idea of what she was about to do, but it vanished quickly leaving no trace, his mind left blank as an unused sheet of paper.

Still, after an eternity of staring in her eyes, he couldn't comprehend what she had done.

She had kissed him. That part was easy enough. He understood what a kiss was.

S_he_ had _kissed him_. That was the part that left him speechless.

His mouth was dry and couldn't form the words. He stumbled over the words as they piled in his throat becoming trapped within their own selves.

He wasn't the first to speak.

Her facade crumbled and there was embarrassment, shame, and fear framed by her golden blonde curls. The light was dim but he still caught it.

Her mouth opened and the universe froze for all too long.

"Sorry."

Just like that, a single breath of oxygen returned to his lungs, freeing his words along the way.

"It's cool."

It nearly came out as a question, but he had to preserve some semblance of sanity, of knowing what he was doing. Yet as he stared at her and she stared back, he found a slight burn in his chest. Desperation. He needed to know. He attempted to communicate this wordlessly but Sam stayed stubbornly silent.

"Why?"

She flinched and took another step back, widening the space between them. The air chilled. A solitary gust blew through the courtyard. One of her blonde locks was thrown across her eyes. He was temporarily seized with the urge to sweep it away, but he didn't need to. She avoided his gaze, glancing down at her shoes; her hair fell in a curtain around her face. For several seconds, they stood, his question hanging in the air, a heavy cloud.

He was hit with the long passed memories of the fire escape. He remembered her answer. Just to get it over with. He remembered the deal. Never speak of it again.

Sam mumbled something unintelligible.

"Sam?"

She looked up and the bright azure of her irises, the shade he'd become accustomed to seeing, was gone, replaced with the dark, deep, ocean of vulnerability.

She took a breath, inhaling his question. The words tumbled out of her mouth in a rush.

"I...I think I'm in love with you."

The earth shifted beneath him. Freddie was reasonably sure his heart was stopped.

He remembered their parting words, their reassurances.

I hate you.

I hate you, too.

"No."

The hurt invaded her face, shrinking into herself. She trembled. In a small voice, she said.

"What?"

He shook his head. This was all wrong. All wrong. How could she?

"No, you can't love me. That's impossible. I don't even...I don't even...understand. How..."

The finality in his voice must have triggered something in her. Her hands became fists. Her eyes burned sapphire with diamond tears. Her glare was hard.

"What do you mean you don't understand? It's obvious. I didn't stutter."

He shook his head again. Confusion. Trying to make sense when there was none.

"I don't know! I just—you can't..."

"Don't know what? You just what? I can't what?" She took a bold step forward though it looked like that was the last thing she wanted to do. "I can't fall in love? Am I that heartless? Cold? Mean? Is that it?"

He closed his eyes so he couldn't see her. He was taking quick shallow breaths, struggling to clear his head of the aching.

"I-you can't-"

"I tried. I helped with the project, I made guacamole—"

"You can't—"

"STOP SAYING THAT!" Her voice cracked. He could almost imagine the tears running down her cheek, falling slowly through the dense, lifeless air. "I have feelings too. And right now...I-I _hurt._"

A pause, rapid footsteps, a door. She was gone.

He slumped to his knees. His forehead rested on the cool, hard cement.

"I don't know, Sam. I don't know how you can love me."

And the air moved once more.

* * *

><p>It was a dismal Monday. Cloudy and gray, the sky let down a light sprinkling early in the morning which crescendoed to a heavy downpour during 3rd period. Freddie listened as the rain drummed against the windows of his classroom. The massive windows were a collage of distorted, shifting landscapes. He used to know what caused it, refraction, reflection, or something like that, but now he could care less.<p>

He had spent the weekend ignoring and being ignored. He left his apartment only to run errands for his mother. Get some milk. Buy more thread. Stock up on hand wipes. Otherwise he spent his time in his room, on his bed, counting the little points of stucco on the ceiling.

Counting provided the needed activity to prevent him from thinking. No, he wasn't one to expect a problem to disappear to he pretended it wasn't there. No, he wasn't that naive. But he knew that putting the inevitable off was easier than facing it.

Of course, the best laid schemes of mice and men (Freddie ashamedly knew he was a combination of both) often go awry.

He bumped into Carly, quite literally, as he went out for his mother's anti-whatever cream. As he was coming out the door, his head was down and he slammed into someone in the hall.

"Sorry, I—"

Carly gave him an emotionless look and went into her apartment, closing the door behind her.

That was how Freddie figured out she knew. And he was being ignored.

The rain pounded harder as the teacher droned on. He didn't even know what class he was in. His headache wasn't making the day a cakewalk. He felt like crap.

Rightfully so.

There it was. Guilt layered in the confusion. He kept replaying the mind numbing scene that had occurred during the lockout.

She loved him.

If that hadn't been unexpected, he didn't know what was.

He had been thunderstruck. The idea of Sam loving him was foreign and unfamiliar. Their relationship hadn't been normal, but it was comfortable. They were friends. They were rivals. They sort of tolerated each other. But they hung out frequently. Four sentences to describe Sam and Freddie. Now, it'd take a psychology thesis.

Because she loved him.

He couldn't begin to guess when, where, or how things had change between them. But apparently she did.

She loved him.

He felt an upsurge of anger. She had no right to change things. No right. Things were fine. Perfect. Peachy. Then the guilt came back and he berated himself for thinking like that. She had cried.

Sam had cried.

Because he told her she couldn't love him.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. The headache was worse.

Passing period resembled a mad, chaotic rush of students. Freddie was an island, albeit a depressed and introspective island. He leaned against his locker watching the students fly by. They jostled and pushed and shoved. Freddie grimaced as an 8th grader stumbled against him, gasping an apology before plunging back into the crowd.

"Having fun?"

Carly appeared next to him. He could tell she glanced at him, but when he checked, she was gazing out into the packed hallway like he was moments earlier.

"No."

Together they watched as two girls collided in a spectacular, yet soundless, burst of loose-leaf papers and makeup. The buzz of the hall drowned out any words of the fight, but Freddie could tell it was heated. Soon a teacher came along and broke it up, sending both girls to the Principal's office.

"Freddie."

He closed his eyes and sighed. His headache dulled to a murmur.

"Yeah."

"Girl's bathroom, 3rd floor." She turned to leave. "And don't..."

She trailed off.

Freddie sighed again.

"Yeah."

The halls had cleared by the time Freddie stood in front of the girl's bathroom, 3rd floor. He hesitated with his hand poised to knock. Did he really know what he was going to say?

No.

Did he know what he was getting into?

No.

Did he have any idea as to what to do?

No.

Freddie lowered his hand.

"Sam?" He called tentatively.

No answer.

"Are-are you in there?"

"No. Go away."

Her voice echoed through the door and he could tell she had been crying.

"Sam, please let me in."

"No. Go away."

"I just want to—"

"No. Go away."

"Is that all you can say?"

"...fuck you."

He pushed the door open to find an empty room.

"Sam?"

He listened for her sniffling, but was saved the trouble when she replied.

"...fourth stall."

His shoes clapped on the tiles as he took slow deliberate steps, counting. He cautiously opened the stall door.

"Sam, where are you?"

Her voice came from the stall to his left.

"Sit. I don't want to see you right now."

Freddie ran a hand through his hair. He walked into the stall and closed the door, pulling the lock into place. He grabbed a paper seat cover and laid it on the toilet. He sat.

The headache vanished to be replaced with a pounding quiet. The white fluorescent lights illuminated everything with an artificial glare. He took a second to read an excerpt on the wall about Nelly Phillip's horrible rash.

"What're you doing, Sam? Hiding in a girl's bathroom, 3rd floor."

She didn't answer.

"You never used to be like th—"

"I've given up. Happy?"

He stared at the wall to his right.

"Why would I be happy?"

She laughed derisively; it sounded strangely alluring despite the acoustics and her stuffed nose.

"You should be happy. You can't have _me_ running after you."

They descended into an awkward silence neither willing to go on. After a while, Freddie asked.

"How'd you...how'd you—"

"Fall in love with you?"

"Yeah."

He heard Sam take a deep watery breath and blow her nose.

"I dunno. But it was easy."

In spite of himself, he smiled down at his hands. She went on.

"I guess it started when you started looking h...okay. Then you got all witty and confident. We hung out more and when you did nubbish things, they were cute instead of weird. My stomach did funny flops and I looked forward to little things like Groovy Smoothie or 5th period English. Somewhen, I just...I just..." she muttered the last part, "I cared about you more than I thought I ever would.

"Oh."

"Yeah. But I'm giving up."

"Why?"

"Because apparently, I can't love you," she said bitterly.

His guilt came back. But there was a way to fix that.

"Sam, I-I did a lot of thinking and," he rested his head against the right stall wall, "when you told me you...loved me, I was confused. Thing were changing and I didn't know what was happening. I panicked and I said things I shouldn't have said. And don't think that I think of you as cold or heartless. You're passionate about fatcakes, you stand up for Carly, you hate Mrs. Briggs, and you...you defended me in front of hundreds of thousands of people that-that night. I didn't forget."

The wall moved slightly as she leaned her head against his on the other side. She kept silent. Freddie continued.

"To be honest, I was afraid. I've never dealt well with what I didn't know or couldn't understand. We've always been friends and I'm afraid to change that. I'm a coward," suddenly he laughed, "And now I see what a hypocrite I was, telling you it's all right to say what you feel and then telling you that you can't...God, I've made a mess of things, haven't I? But I want you to know, I'm better now and, and it's okay if you-you love me because...I think there's a...a maybe..."

There was a soft knock on his door. He slid the bolt open and the door swung, squeaky on its hinges. Sam's eyes were red and a little puffy, her hair was a nest of tangles, and there was a tissue clinging to her red plaid shirt.

"Sam...," he breathed.

He stood and she stepped forward, pulling him into a hug. She pressed her face into his shirt. He looked down at the top of her head and soothingly rubbed her back. "I'm sorry."

Her reply was muffled by cloth so he grabbed by the shoulders and gently held her at a distance, giving her a questioning look. She punched him in the shoulder. He chuckled with relief. For a while there he had thought he lost Sam. It was great to see her old self. He couldn't help but smile when she cracked a sunny smirk.

"It's cool."

* * *

><p><strong>Please review!<strong>

**~The CABAL~**

**aussiemma, axel100, BaalRules, BoxOfTrinkets, boxofpiglets, Champagne Scene, Coyote Laughs, Deviocity, Hartful13, hidden-in-the-pictures, ItalianBabexo8, iCabal, iCarlyangst, iLuvNathanKrEsS, KingxLeon21, Myjumpingsocks, ober22, pairababes, pearlbutton328, Pieequals36, pigwiz, Tech-Man, The Earl of Sandwich, twowritehands, Virgoleo23, Waffles Of Doom, xXACCEBXx**

**Be sure to look for postings by many of your favorite Cabal authors this weekend!**


End file.
